It was her first big interview for a television station. He took off his pants in front of her, drove her to his house instead of her hotel and called her cell phone repeatedly when she finally got away.
She was an intern for a television show. He offered her money to take a trip to Las Vegas with him.
It was her first time in a Major League Baseball clubhouse. He wouldn't answer any of her questions, just asked her repeatedly at which hotel she was staying.
She was waiting in a press room to interview a player. He suggested she join the player in the shower and help wash his back.
She was a young newspaper writer. He wrote her a letter threatening her life and the lives of her children, telling her: "You stupid b----. Stop writing. Now."
These are just a handful of stories my friends and colleagues told me in this week's "That's What She Said" podcast. I didn't have to seek out women with shocking tales of harassment; I already know plenty. And I had my own stories to tell. If you know a woman who works in the sports industry, she probably does, too. Stories of men abusing their power, hoping to take advantage of young girls' ambitions. Or men asserting control, working to make women feel unwelcome and unsafe.
Most women don't have just one story. There are land mines everywhere, in the form of entitled bosses, handsy athletes, even colleagues who want to protect what they deem a "male space." Whether it's in the form of Twitter tirades decrying women unfit to host radio shows, or rants about how sports are set to "the dial of men," the sports world is one that says to women too many times, in too many ways, "Stay out!"
Progress has been made -- in sports, with women fighting their way into coveted roles as analysts, opinion-givers and hosts -- and in the workplace in general, with more attention being paid to the wage gap and more and more women in executive roles. But there's a fear things might regress after the election of Donald Trump, whose presidential campaign was successful despite being plagued by allegations of sexual assault and documented instances of misogynistic language and behavior.
In August, when Trump was asked how his daughter, Ivanka, might respond to being sexually harassed, he said, "I would like to think she would find another career or find another company if that was the case." Trump's son Eric offered his two cents in a tweet, writing that a "strong, powerful woman" like Ivanka wouldn't be harassed in the first place.
That mindset puts the onus on the victims to end harassment, rather than the perpetrators. Each and every indignity and objectification makes it harder for a woman to work and easier for her male co-workers to view her -- and treat her -- as inferior. Each instance of disrespect and violation of personal space affects how safe a woman feels, how free to do her job.
The women I know survived the lewd comments, harassment and unfair stereotypes to find great success, but their strength in the face of such treatment shouldn't be a requirement of the job. It's hard enough just to learn the material, do the research, get the interviews, write the stories, host the shows and break down the issues (all while attempting to meet unrealistic standards of beauty). Rejecting unwanted advances and calling out inappropriate behavior without damaging your chances at a job or risking termination shouldn't be added to the list.
But what can be done about a problem so pervasive? An issue so prevalent it's become almost normalized? Talk about it. Share our stories. Call out the acts and, whenever possible, call out those responsible. We must continue to work to gain more influence and esteem so that we may be the ones hiring, leading and empowering. We must expose the ugliness of this behavior so there is no doubt as to what's appropriate or allowed.
